Save The Best For Last
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Based on "A Long, Long Sleep" by Anna Sheehan. Two years later at their high school prom, Rose makes up her mind and Otto makes a confession.


Save the Best for Last

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _A Long, Long Sleep_

Copyright: Anna Sheehan

"_Sometimes the snow comes down in June.  
>Sometimes the sun goes 'round the moon.<br>Just when I thought our chance had passed,  
>you went and saved the best for last."<br>_- Vanessa Williams, "Save the Best for Last"

At her high school prom, somewhat to her surprise, Rose Fitzroy was not quite the wallflower she'd expected to be. She actually had more dance partners than her stass-fatigued body could handle; as she dropped breathlessly into a chair next to Otto, only her mother's long-ago training in etiquette kept her from kicking off her high heels and slumping like a sack of potatoes.

"Did Bren get _every_ boy he knows to dance with me?" she shouted over the music.

Otto raised an eyebrow at her, fished his notescreen out of his tuxedo pocket, typed something rapidly and passed it to her.

**You don't need Bren's help for this, trust me. Looks like that dress finally opened their eyes.**

She laughed in embarrassment and tugged at the pink silk gown Mrs. Sabah had helped her buy. It was true that her curves, modest as they were, had filled out a little over the past two years and that the dress showed it.

"Thanks. You look rather dashing yourself, Otto."

She tugged on his thick black hair, which he had gathered into a ponytail that made the strong bones of his face stand out quite clearly, making him look older, especially in combination with the tuxedo.

"You're not dancing much, are you?"

He held up his hand and shot her a pointed look. She grimaced. Of course; most girls wouldn't relish dancing with a touch-telepath.

"How about giving me a turn when this song is over? I just need to catch my breath first."

He nodded, leaving them both to watch the spectacle before them. The lights were low, punctuated with rainbow-colored spots from a disco ball overhead. Couples swayed together, skirts swirling in time to the slow music of piano and violins from the speaker system. Unlike Rose's time, when people had mostly just shuffled along, these teenagers danced in rhythmic patterns, with the occasional turn or dip; another cultural development she had missed, and a very welcome one. Bren had taught her how to waltz, and she loved it; if not for her unreliable health, she might have gone on all night.

It was thinking of Bren that drew her eyes to him; she could pick him out of any crowd by his frizzy curls and confident demeanor. He was dancing with Molly, the redheaded Callistan colonist from their lunch group, whose stocky figure was much improved by shimmering green dress in the empire style. Her head was barely level with his chin, but the way she smiled up at him and the playful familiarity of ther movements showed that neither of them minded at all. Was he holding her closer than the waltz required?

Glancing at Otto, she found that he was already holding out the notescreen.

**I didn't think she was his type, but maybe that doubles tennis tournament in New York drew them closer than we thought? And he always did admire her mind.**

"Did you know about this?" Rose asked, in a calm voice that made Otto look up at her in surprise. He shook his head.

**My code didn't let me tell you. I'm sorry. **

"What for? Oh, you mean … " She blushed. Her failed confession to Bren two years ago remained one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. At that time, she would have cried herself sick to see him dancing with another girl. The question was, how did she feel about it now?

She turned her head to look at Bren and Molly again. He was still beautiful, with his mahogany skin, green eyes and tennis-champion physique, and Molly was still inescapably plain in spite of her dress and the glow of dancing. But Rose did not feel like crying; in fact, remembering how Otto had once quoted Molly's wistful description of Bren two years ago, and watching joy light up her flat-nosed, frecked face almost beyond recognition _…_

"You know," Rose surprised herself by saying. "I actually don't mind. I'm happy for them."

Otto raised his eyebrow again, skeptically, as if to say, _Really?_

"Really."

She took his hand to prove it, showing him how ever since the night she'd destroyed the Plastine, every romantic thought she'd had about Bren had run up, like a hover skiff meeting the magnetic curb, against the fact of him being Xavier's grandson. The grandson _she_ could have had, under different circumstances. _It got to be a serious turn-off. Besides, time really does heal, remember? Look at you and Nabiki._

Nabiki was dancing with Jamal, looking fiercely attractive in a scarlet mandarin-collared dress. A year and a half ago, the lioness had found a new cub to defend, and Rose had helped Otto through the complication of his former girlfriend falling for his roommate. By now, the sight of them together gave him nothing but residual nostalgia – unless …

Rose met his eyes in shock, without letting go of his hand. _Otto? Did I just sense what I thought I sensed?_

_You mean about dancing with you?_

_No … well, yes … but beyond that. _

Otto's mind was exceptionally disciplined, but even he could not hold back such a powerful thought as this one when Rose asked for it directly. He had described falling in love once as "a colored rainbow" in his mind, but that was not what she felt. She felt the ocean – a tropical ocean sparkling with sunlight, cradling her, the strong tides washing her to shore. Deep enough to drown in, strong enough to knock her off her feet, and yet she'd never felt safer in all her life. She saw images in the water: a rose hedge, armed with briars, protecting a castle that looked like UniPrep. Herself standing over the melted Plastine in a fog of fumes, bruised but triumphant. Meeting Otto's siblings with a polite handshake, on equal terms. Herself tonight, the image of her namesake flower, smiling under the disco lights and taking his hand.

She caught her breath and closed her eyes, as if the brightness of his emotions might actually blind her. She was intensely aware of his hand still holding hers. Dr. Bija was right. Love really _was_ different every time.

_So now you know,_ he thought ruefully. _It's as good a time as any to tell you, I suppose. Now that you've finally sorted out Bren and Xavier. You don't know how many times I thought I'd explode, holding that back._

She laughed softly, still reeling with astonished delight. _No wonder._

_Do you still want to dance with me? _It was a challenge, flirtatious and proud and a little nervous all at once. He wasn't quite sure of her response – possibly because that ocean of love had been so overwhelming that he couldn't quite distinguish his own thoughts from hers.

Rose sent him a _Yes!_ as warm and enthusiastic as she could possibly think.

_Then we'd better get a move on,shouldn't we? The song's starting._

He stood up and, without letting go of her hand, pulled her to her feet. She placed her other hand on his shoulder, straightened up, and away they went, their silent conversation echoed by their bodies with a subtlety and grace no ordinary human could match.


End file.
